


Getting Ready

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [108]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Canadian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 20:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15826155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: In Citadel, Antony Starr is an AU (alternate universe) character. He tells people he's an IT Risk Management and Computer Security Consultant (his official cover) but really he's a ex-military, sometimes mercenary, computer hacker and master thief hired by collectors and other ruthless people to steal for them: art, jewels, money, information... Citadel knows Antony's true occupation and he would never target the organization or any of its membership. Through Cit, he's met Stephen Amell (played RL) and fallen hard. This is their story.





	Getting Ready

**Author's Note:**

> This is an archiving of all logs for the Antony Starr/Stephen Amell in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).
> 
> This is a new log and has not previously been posted to the game.

They've been back for a couple of days, everything put away, sorted out, life back to normal, or nearly. Stephen's still got two weeks until he heads back to work and Antony's away on another job day after next. It's supposed to be a regular job but it's anything but, Marcus having gathered the crew Antony wanted to go and finish things with Zoran once and for all.

Stephen out for the day, busy with the gym and meetings, Antony takes what he needs from the gun cabinet, laying it all out on a soft cloth on the dining room table. There'll be more than enough weapons for the group but for something like this, he prefers his own. The only thing he's not taking is the rifle, the other five guns spread out, cleaned, one of the semis still in pieces when he gets the call to come down to the front desk for a package.

Climbing out of his car, Stephen makes his way up to their penthouse via the private elevator from the underground car park. He had meetings this morning, spent 3 hours at the gym, working through a new cardio routine with his trainer, and then had had a costume fitting - which had promptly been cancelled. So he's home, hours earlier than he expected. Tired, muscle sore from pushing himself and looking forward to a soak in the bath. 

He switches his collars out at the front door, heads straight for the bedroom to ditch his gym bag - the new leather one Antony had bought him for Christmas - and toes off his trainers. Only then does he go in search of his husband. "Tony?" 

There's no answer, frowning, Stephen starts to move out of the living room to the dining space and pulls up short. Laid out, all dark gleaming metal - are guns - five of them. Nearly all of Antony's collection. Stepping up to the table he reaches out and lets his fingers play along the barrel of one of the larger, the metal is cool and greasy, Stephen assumes from cleaning oil. 

The package tucked under his arm, Antony comes back in, whistling softly, a note dying on his breath as he sees Stephen standing there. Home. Already. Christ. "You're home early," he says, closing the distance between them and giving Stephen a kiss. "How'd everything go?" The box laid beside the guns on the table.

The sound of Antony at the door had had Stephen snatching his hand back from the gun like he'd been burned. He wipes the grease down his track pants and blows out a breath. He turns to his husband as closes in. "Hey, yeah all good, costume fitting got cancelled, so I got to come home early." 

"That's great," Antony says, smiling. "Sorry for the mess," he adds, gesturing at the table, the guns. "I thought I'd have it cleaned up by the time you got in."

Stephen glances at the guns. "Just cleaning them? Or getting them ready for work?" Even as he asks, Stephen's not sure why, or if he really wants to know. But they're right there, unavoidably obvious.

"Work," Antony admits after a second's hesitation. He may not be able to tell Stephen everything but outright lying sits badly with him. "I'm taking them with me."

His attention back on the guns, Stephen contemplates that for a moment. "All five?" he asks for clarity. Because - hand guns are one thing, semi automatics... yeah their presence infers things he's really not ready to deal with.

Antony nods. "Just in case," he says, trying to make it sound less serious than it really is. "We have company stock but I prefer my own."

Stephen blows out a breath and turns away. "Remember your promise to me." It's all he has to say as he moves away from the table.

"I will," Antony swears and he means it. He'll keep Stephen safe and he'll come home in one piece. Whatever it takes. "Did you want to go out for a while or stay in tonight?" he asks, quickly reassembling the gun.

He can hear the click snap of metal sliding back together, and Stephen can't help feeling deeply uncomfortable at how instinctive and natural it is for Antony. "I'm going nowhere but the bath," he calls over his shoulder.

"Do you want me to make dinner, or order in then?" Antony calls back, pulling out the travel case and carefully stashing the guns inside.

"I don't mind, but I want a beer." Stephen busies himself running a bath before ditching his clothes in the laundry bin. He can't shake off the discomfort he's feeling. He works hard to ignore that part of Antony's job, and it's becoming increasingly obvious that it's something he's going to have to look at soon, on some level at least. It's one thing to make assumptions, it's quite another to have to look cold hard facts in the face. He hasn't forgotten a couple of conversations they've had recently either; where Antony admitted not all his work is 'even close to legal' and more disturbingly that some of his wealth is laundered before it makes it into his US accounts.

Antony puts the last of the cleaning supplies away, washes his hands, pulls some sirloin steak from the fridge and slices it into thin strips. Makes up a marinade and puts both the steak and the marinade in a ziplock to soak. He slices up some peppers and onion, cuts up tomato and lettuce, grates some cheese, puts together some guacamole and sets out a cast-iron skillet to make up fajitas. Doublechecks there's enough beer in the fridge and some of the hot salsa they both like. He's trying to not think too much about the fine balance he's got going with Stephen knowing but not knowing what he does. And he can't help thinking about what Tommy said. About Trina knowing everything. Fuck. 

The bath eases the tension in his muscles, but doesn't do nearly as good a job on quieting his misgivings. His skin is still pink, hair damp when he appears in the kitchen, sweat pants low on his hips and tee in hand. 

Antony glances up from the last of the dirty dishes and lets out a low whistle, eyes crinkling. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone look as good in sweat pants as you do."

"You are biased," Stephen smiles at that. He can't not. "Also, they leave little to the imagination." He tugs his tee on and makes straight for the fridge for a beer.

"I know. I love it," Antony grins, taking a good long look as he puts the last dish on the drying pad. "You good with fajitas?" His phone buzzes on his hip and he takes a quick look, texting Marcus back, _good to go. bringing my own. empty tho. will need stock._

"Uh huh." Stephen pops the tops off both bottles and hands one to Antony. "I need you to rub my calf down later, I'm still getting problems with it," 

"Yeah?" Antony frown, nodding his thanks as he takes the beer. "Was it bugging you at the gym? Do you want me to use that oil we got in India?"

"Yeah, it was threatening to cramp a couple of times, even though I'd warmed up properly," Stephen takes a long drink of his beer. "I want it sorted before I'm back filming."

"We have a special PT guy who works for the company if you want me to call him," Antony suggests, watching Stephen. "He can fix just about anything."

"Let me get through another couple of sessions, if it's not improved, yeah I'll take you up of that." 

Antony nods, shifting closer. "Are you hungry?" he asks, placing a hand on Stephen's hip and leaning in to kiss the side of his throat, the scent of soap and skin and Stephen beneath that filling his nostrils.

Stephen takes a moment to savour that moment, the caress, before replying. "Yeah, I did a three hour work out, what do you think?" 

Antony laughs. "Then I'll behave myself and make us some dinner."

"Feed me then fuck me," Stephen agrees, stepping back and turning to belch softly into his fist. "Did you get up to much else today?"

"I met with Tommy this morning," Antony says, getting everything back out from the fridge, setting the oven to preheat and heating the skillet. "He found a place. Showed me some pictures. It looks cool. Very Spanish. Not at all like his house in Scotland."

"Great, we should make sure he invites us over when he's settled in," Stephen drains his beer and heads back to the fridge for another. "Talking of houses, I've made an appointment to see a real estate agent while you're away, to get the ball rolling on our beach house hunt."

Antony glances over, smiling, wrapping the tortillas in tin foil for the oven. Grateful to hear Stephen mentioning something that has to do with their future. "You focusing on here for now, or wherever we can get right on the beach?"

"I'm going to look at all the options, see what our money gets us in different areas." Fresh beer in hand Stephen leans back against the counter top. "No point in limiting it just yet - we might come up against something we haven't considered."

Antony nods again. "You want to sit at the island? Or set the table?" he asks, putting the steak to cook. He takes a quick drink of his beer. "I assume we're going through Cit?"

"I'll set the table," Stephen pushes up from where he's leaning and sets his bottle down. "And yeah, it'll make it easier when we're ready to view place." 

"I should be back late Friday if you want to set anything up for the weekend." Antony puts the tortillas in the oven and adds the peppers and onions to the steak.

"I'm in no huge rush, but we should have some details to look at by then, least start to get an idea." The table set out Stephen peers at the wine rack for a bottle of red to open. "In the mood to share a bottle?" 

"Sure." Antony nods. "You want hot sauce or is the salsa enough?" he asks, giving the steak and vegetables another stir before he quickly moves the rest of the fixings to the table. As focused on this in the moment as he gets with everything else.

"Just salsa." Two glasses are set out and Stephen opens a bottle of red. They move around each other with ease, the gentle dance of a couple used to each other. 

Heating the pan until the steak and vegetables are sizzling, Antony hands Stephen the tortillas in an oven mitt and moves a trivet and the skillet to the table. "Fuck, that's hot, be careful," he warns, doublechecking they've got everything and the burners and oven are turned off before taking a seat.

"Yes Mama," Stephen teases, pouring them both wine before he starts to construct his first tortilla. 

Antony grins and sticks his tongue out, slapping a tortilla onto his plate and loading it with meat, vegetables and all the toppings. His phone buzzes again and he sighs, pulling it from his pocket and texting back _having dinner. call c. don't want w if h can't come._ "Sorry," he tells Stephen, laying his phone facedown on the table. "Last minute details."

"Ahhh we're back to normal then?" Stephen lifts his glass to his mouth - he seems, unconsciously at least, to be rather eager to get drunk tonight. "The other man in your life is after your attention."

"Sorry," Antony says again. "I can turn it off," he offers, taking a bite of his folded fajita.

"No, it's fine." And it is, mostly. Stephen sets about his food with determination, he really is very hungry and the beers had already started to go to his head.

Antony's not sure it is, but hopefully that's the last of the texts for a while. "I also stopped by the gym today. Took Dave with me," he says. "We're going to do some renos. Make a large back room I can keep to myself and open the rest to the public. Well, to kids, like you suggested. We'll hire someone to work there full-time, some of the guys will take turns teaching classes..."

Stephen's hand stills halfway to his mouth. "What?" He'd suggested this back in October, as an alternative to Antony's 'other' work. "The gym? Really?"

Antony nods. "It's a good idea and the place is just sitting there most of the time," he says, in between bites. "I bought it because it couldn't make a go as a business but this way we can run it as a non-profit."

"Wow, that's really wonderful," Stephen takes a bite and then picks up his glass. "If I can help, let me know."

"Actually..." Antony sits back. "Do you think you could meet with Dave while I'm away? Go over the plans, help him come up some ideas you think would appeal to the kids? We need to repaint, redo the locker room, redo the whole gym. I thought maybe we could add a climbing wall at the one end." He shrugs. "And maybe you could make an appearance when we open the place up? Draw the kids in? _If_ your guys'd be okay with that."

"You only have to ask," Stephen nods, he empties his glass and tops it up again. "I'll meet with him, and I will tell my people it's a good thing, I'll make it happen."

"Thanks." Antony glances at Stephen's glass. That's two beers and one glass of wine, all in a very short amount of time. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, of course." Stephen smiles and turns his attention back on his food. "This is good, I love this marinade you do." He wraps up more steak and demolishes it.

Antony smiles. "It's nice having someone to cook for," he says, well aware he sounds like some 1950s housewife.

"S'good job I love my food so much then huh? Can you imagine if you'd hooked up with some borderline anorexic model." Wiping his mouth with his napkin Stephen leans back in his seat. 

Antony laughs. "I don't think that would've lasted long," he says, making short work of the last of his food. "Still got room for dessert?" he asks, grinning.

"Hello," Stephen offers his hand over the table. "My name's Stephen, have we met?"

"I didn't want to assume," Antony says, laughing as he stands, clearing the table of their main dishes and coming back with a plate full of churros. "I got them from the bakery by the gym. They gave me the idea for the fajitas. Those ones," he points, "are filled with chocolate and those ones, dulce de leche."

It's not a choice about which to have, rather it's a choice about which to have _first_. Chocolate is followed by dulce de leche and Stephen hums his appreciation through both. 

As much as Antony loves travelling, it's good to be home, and it's even better to share that home with his husband now. The thought of leaving so soon again isn't a happy one and it's only the determination to finish this, to resolve it, to put them back where they were before this all started that makes it any better. Sensible people don't challenge Antony. Sane people don't go after him and his family. So Zoran's like some fucking mad dog who doesn't know better and it's time to put him down. "You want to help me clean up and then I'll work on your calf?"

Licking sugar from his lower lip, Stephen nods and slips out of his chair, he takes his glass with him to the kitchen and busies himself with loading the dishwasher, it doesn't take them long to put things back in order. By which time food and alcohol have made Stephen feel more chilled, but not yet sleepy.

Antony grabs a towel from the linen closet and the oil from the bathroom. He spreads the towel on the bed, sets the oil on the nightstand and strips down. He'd rather wash the oil from his skin then try and get it out of his clothes.

"Naked already?" Stephen observes as he enters the bedroom, he'd stopped off at the bathroom on his way in. His own clothes join Antony's and he climbs up on the bed. "How do you want me?"

"Of course." Antony grins. "On your front, legs on the towel."

"Always on my front," Stephen mock grumbles as he turns over, tucking his dick into a more comfortable position. "Anyone would think you were obsessed with my ass."

Antony's grin widens. He kneels on the bed beside Stephen and laughs, grabbing Stephen's ass cheeks and giving them a squeeze. "I am. I'm fucking obsessed," he agrees happily.

"Then it's a good job my ass loves you huh?" Stephen stuffs his pillow under his chin, his arms wrapped around it. 

"Very good," Antony nods, stroking his hands over those gorgeous cheeks once more before he pulls back and picks up the oil, pouring a decent-sized dollop into his palm. "Let me know if it hurts," he says, starting to work on Stephen's calf.

Knowing Stephen's body as well as he does means Antony is pretty well attuned to any tension he finds, which makes him pretty much the perfect masseur for Stephen. The moment he tenses as Antony's thumb hits a tender patch his husband is easing up, lightening his touch. "Yeah, that's where it started again today," he mumbles, eyes closed, his fingers curled into the pillow. 

"Here?" Antony double-checks, working gently at the muscle and tendon.

"Yeah," Stephen's wondering if he should go and get this checked out, it's been giving him problems for three weeks now, and he can't afford to not be 100% when he starts filming again, because he won't have any room for slack in his schedule.

"It's knotting," Antony says, continuing to gently press in and around the muscle with his thumbs. "It might actually be a tear." Which he knows is not what Stephen wants to hear. "I can try something if you want or I can do this and you can see a professional or my PT guy."

 _Fuck._ Stephen lifts his head and turns to look at Antony. "Try what exactly?" 

"I can try some deeper massage, try and get the adhesions to break up and the fasciia to release," Antony says, sitting back on his heels. "It shouldn't do more than burn some and it shouldn't make things any worse but it's up to you. You might want to wait on a professional."

"What do you think? Do you want me to see your guy? Assuming he can fit me in pretty quick?" Stephen rubs between his eyes and wishes he'd bought the last of the wine in here with him.

Antony blows out a breath, considering their best course of action. "Why don't I call Doc in the morning and get you over there for an MRI so we know what we're dealing with and then Kim can see you when we've got the results."

"An MRI?" Stephen rolls onto his side, his face creased in a frown. "It's cramp." 

"We can do an ultrasound first if you want," Antony offers, "but it's not just cramp. Not when it's been bothering you since Nepal and it feels like a fucking knot."

"Fuck." This time the expletive is verbalised. "Then I need whatever we can get done to get it sorted, I _cannot_ go back to work like this."

"I'll call Doc now. Get us in first thing in the morning," Antony says, reaching for some tissues and wiping the oil from his hands. "You stay where you are though. I'll still give you a massage."

Rolling back onto his front Stephen growls in frustration and bangs his forehead on his fisted hands. He doesn't need this, he's got a training programme to get back into, stunts to start choreographing. 

"Hey, Doc. How's it going?" Antony asks, surprised to get his mate instead of going straight to the answering service. He explains the situation and how quickly it needs to be resolved. "You can? Great. Yeah, we can definitely be there. Thanks." He heads back into the bedroom. "He says they can fit us in first thing in the morning, 6:30. You okay with that?" It's way too early as far as Antony's concerned but Doc's doing them a favour and it means they can see Kim right after. Know exactly what they're dealing with sooner than later.

"6:30?" It seems Stephen's stuck on repeating every other thing Antony says to him tonight. "Yeah sure, that's fine." He tries to sound grateful, but this is turning into a pain in the ass. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Antony says, climbing back on the bed. "We can do that and then drop into the office and see Kim." He gives Stephen a small smile. "You want to let me give you a back rub at least?"

It would be both petulant and stupid to refuse an offer like that, so Stephen nods and resettles himself, his face tucked into his arms. 

"I know it sucks," Antony says quietly, straddling Stephen's upper thighs, his hands oiled again as he reaches forward and starts with the back of his husband's neck. "But the sooner we get on it, the quicker it'll heal. And this way you won't do more damage thinking it's just a cramp."

"I should have realised sooner," Stephen mumbles. It's not like he isn't in tune with his body, more so than most people, not with the way he has to work it for 'Arrow' and again when he offers it up to Antony to toy with. 

"We were on our honeymoon," Antony points out, hoping Stephen won't beat himself up over being injured. "You weren't doing the things you usually do or you probably would have."

"I suppose," Stephen concedes, but he says it more for Antony's benefit than because he really believes it. He tries to make himself relax, Antony's closeness, his hands on him, even the scent from the oil _should_ all conspire to make it so. 

Antony works over Stephen's shoulders and upper back, gently but firmly kneading out tension wherever he finds it. Moving on, his thumbs press in harder, loosening up the tightness he can feel in Stephen's lower back.

"It's going to be weird, not having you around," Stephen says quietly after a few moments of silence. "I've gotten used to having you right here."

"I know," Antony nods. They've had almost a month together, neither of them working. "I'll miss you."

"I'll be lost without you," Stephen admits, the beer and wine, this leg thing, all making him more vulnerable than he might otherwise be. 

Antony's chest tightens and his hands still for a moment. Since the scene in India, things have felt a fraction off. The night security came and got him and the misunderstanding over Tommy's inquiry only adding to the feeling. And tonight, with the guns. And to hear that - to hear that Stephen's not looking forward to him going, not wanting some distance between them, means everything. "I'll be home before you know it," he says softly, leaning forward, a kiss pressed to the curve of Stephen's jaw. "And I'll call you, text when I can."

"It hurts, when you go, the longer you're gone, when I know..." Stephen stops and swallows. "...you might not be safe." He brings his hand out from under his face and covers his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Antony says, rolling to the side and pulling Stephen into his arms. "Look at all the years I made it home safe, and now I have a real _reason_ to make sure I do."

"That doesn't make it easier." Eyes closed, Stephen presses in, seeking comfort. "When you're gone, I'm on edge, I keep busier, I stay out longer, I work harder at the gym. I don't come to bed until I can't keep my eyes open a moment longer."

Antony hugs Stephen tight. "I know," he says, although he hadn't. Not really. Not all of it. "And I have to go on this job. It's _really_ important. But when I get back, I'll see what I can do about minimizing my away time, do more work from here."

"I'm sorry, this is just... I drank too much... ignore me." Stephen pulls away and rubs at his face. "I'm just overreacting because the last month has been so perfect, I'll be fine, I always am." 

"I don't want to ignore you," Antony says, shaking his head and keeping Stephen close. "I want to make you happy and if my work is fucking that up then I'll have to do something about it."

"But your work makes you happy, I'm not blind to that fact Tony. You still get off on the kick of it." Stephen can't help thinking that if Antony curtails his work trips just for him that it'll plant a seed of resentment, one that would be too easy to grow.

It's true and Antony can't bring himself to deny it. Not when he's promised Stephen the truth - or at least as much of it as his husband can handle. "So, maybe we need to negotiate," he says finally, exhaling roughly. "When I get back. Figure out what's reasonable for you to handle and what's enough for me to feel like I'm still... being challenged."

"Let the next couple of months stand, let us get back into our routine, then we can talk, I honestly think much of this is because we just had a month together, we've shared some pretty intense and intimate stuff..." Stephen turns, props his chin on Antony's chest. "I'm not going to be a problem, I knew what I signed up for."

 _Did you?_ Antony's not sure about that. He knows they talked, knows what he admitted, that Stephen didn't want to know more, but still. "You couldn't ever be a problem," he says, smiling at his husband.

"Oh I'm sure I could if I really tried," Stephen's smile doesn't _quite_ meet his eyes but it's close enough. It's been an odd evening, uncomfortable on a few levels, some of which Stephen isn't even consciously aware of. 

Antony laughs. There's a dozen retorts on the tip of his tongue but he doesn't give voice to any of them, instead choosing to lift his head and give his husband a kiss, his mouth soft but firm.

That? That is something Stephen can lose himself in, so he does. His lips part and he presses closer, fingers petting warm, firm skin.

Antony deepens the kiss, licking into Stephen's mouth, pulling him in even tighter.

Stephen offers himself up, his entire body opening up to Antony. _Use me, make me forget.._

Antony shifts his weight, rolling Stephen onto his back, moving between his thighs, kissing him again and again. The way his husband, his boy, welcomes him, opens up to him, urging him on.

Reaching between them, Stephen wraps his hand around Antony's erection, stroking him to full, aching hardness. "Please..." he whispers between kisses. "...make love to me..."

There's nothing Antony wants more right now and he's already reaching for the lube, slicking his fingers, slipping them between Stephen's thighs.

Prep is quick, Antony's fingers stretching him open with ease, and Stephen pulls at his husband's body, "Now... please," he whispers, over and over.

Antony lines up, pushing in, past that first still tight ring of muscle and then deeper, slowly but steadily until he's fully buried in Stephen. "Oh, fuck," he breathes, stilling for a moment, his cock throbbing. "You feel so good."

Stephen closes his eyes, his head tipped back just a little, his mouth open as he tries to commit this particular moment to memory. With the weight of Antony pressed down between his thighs, the tickle of his husband's breath on his own heated skin, the pulse pulse of his body where it's stretched and full. It's perfect.

Drawing slowly out to the tip, Antony rocks his hips slightly, teasing them both, before thrusting in deep again. And again. Slow tease followed by deep thrust, arousal flushing through him, building and building. Kisses brushed across skin, wherever he can reach, his gaze locked on his husband's face, on the pleasure he sees there.

Stephen matches Antony's moves, in a sensual dance so very familiar, familiar but never exactly the same. Stephen's fingers squeeze and release the meat of Antony's shoulders, his breath deepening as his arousal escalates.

Again and again, Antony moves into Stephen, his movements slowly gaining speed, urgency, until he's right there. "Oh, god... close," he warns, right on the edge of his orgasm, his cock throbbing dangerously with the next thrust.

"Please?" Stephen's voice cracks on the plea, his own completion just there.

Antony nods. "With me," he says, hips suddenly snapping as the first wave crashes over him and he thrusts harder, faster, straining towards every last drop of pleasure.

Keening out a noise that could almost be interpreted as pain, Stephen's body contracts beneath Antony as he sprays semen between them, adding to the sweat that already slicks the slide of his lover's body against his own.

Breathing heavily, Antony drops his head against Stephen's, the throbbing of his cock as the last aftershocks ripple through him keeping him quiet. Still.

 _Come home to me safe... come back to me..._ Thoughts, words unspoken, Stephen's breath puffs out over Antony's lips. He keeps his eyes closed, holding on to this moment, a sick sense of foreboding making him unusually quiet beneath his satiated lover.

"Take another bath with me?" Antony whispers, brushing his lips across Stephen's. He doesn't want to sleep yet, doesn't want to let go of his husband. Couldn't care less they have to be at the clinic so early tomorrow.

"Whatever you want." Stephen opens his eyes, his voice barely a whisper. 

Antony grins, feeling indulged. "Lucky me," he says, teasing, but he means it. Giving his husband a kiss, he eases out, kneeling up and holding out his hand. "C'mon. _Huge_ bath with lots of bubbles."

"Will you wash me?" He doesn't really have to ask, Antony is rarely reticent in keeping his hands to himself, in water or out of it.


End file.
